


Exotic Plant Life (Or, 5 Times Alien Flora Interfered with the Romantic Lives of the Senior Staff)

by faithfulpenelope



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: 5 Times, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-27
Updated: 2016-04-26
Packaged: 2018-06-04 18:57:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6670957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faithfulpenelope/pseuds/faithfulpenelope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time, it's an unforeseeable complication.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The first time, it's an unforeseeable complication.

The Da'narvians are a peaceful people, a welcome addition to the Federation. The negotiations proceed flawlessly, and in the time it usually takes to get the parties to the table, the treaty is signed and Kirk is enjoying the traditional celebratory banquet. Spock is there, and Chekov, whose presence had been request to discuss the latest in advanced theoretical physics with the president of the Da'narvian Science Institute.

They're midway through the dinner when the lead Da'narvian ambassador offers a toast, lifting a cup filled with a sweet-smelling liquor. "It is a traditional Da'narvian drink, similar to your wine," she explains. "It is also believed to make one appear younger, more beautiful." A sly smile appears on her lips. "Not that the Captain needs it."

"Nor does the ambassador," Kirk quickly replies, and she laughs, and drinks. Chekov looks at Kirk expectantly, who shrugs, ignores Bones’s voice in the back of his head warning _no foreign food and drink, damn it_ , and whispers, "bottoms up." Then he feels a twinge and hears an  _eep!_  from Chekov, and he can't help but think,  _ah, crap, I’m gonna hear about this from Bones_.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It takes a while to get the answer, not because it's a particularly hard mystery to solve, but because McCoy can't stop laughing long enough to get it out.

"Most captains would consider this grounds for throwing a crew member in the brig," Kirk spits out, and McCoy just howls louder, clutching his side, because  _this_ captain isn't  _the_ captain but a 15-year-old _boy_.

Or rather, a 15-year-old Jimmy Kirk.

He's not much shorter than normal Kirk, but skinnier, less angular. His uniform hangs on the frame of a kid who's yet to discover weight training.

And Chekov...well, all 45 pounds of an 8-year-old Chekov is pouting mightily at him, his skinny legs tucked up under his now-grossly oversized uniform shirt, his hair a mop of wild curls.

"I'm sorry," McCoy wheezes, sounding not sorry at all. "I'm sorry. Excuse me. Ahem." He straightens up, clears his throat. "I'm sorry. From what I've put together from the scans and what Spock has gathered from the Da'narvians, the herbs used in making their ceremonial drink really do help slow cell death, essentially slowing the aging process. What the Da'narvians couldn't have known is the effect would be amplified in humans, causing, well..." he gestures towards the biobeds, his lip twitching. "You two juniors."

"I still don't get why Spock is fine," Kirk gripes.

McCoy shrugs. "Vulcan physiology. It’s crazy. Look, good news is, mentally, you're completely normal. The effect generally wears off for the Da'narvians in a week or so. Given the accelerated effect you've already experienced and the changes to your scans in just the last hour, I think you could be back to normal in day or two."

"And what are we supposed to do until then?" Chekov squeaks, and McCoy just barely resists the urge to pat him on the head.

"Not much you can do, kid. You're off duty until you're back to full size. Go hang out in the mess or something."

"I can't let people see me like this," Chekov moans. "The crew already thinks I am too young and small. I will never live it down." Kirk pats his shoulder soothingly.

"Maybe Scotty can beam you right to your quarters," he offers, and Chekov sniffs.

“Speaking of,” McCoy says, and Chekov looks on in horror as Scotty rounds the corner, followed quickly by Uhura and -

_Oh no_ , Chekov thinks.

\- Sulu. Who comes up short at the sight of Chekov. His mouth drops open.

"Oh, Pavel." Uhura's hands fly up to her mouth in the universal teenager girl sign for  _oh my god he's so CUTE._ " _Oh, Pavel_."

" _Och_ , laddie, you were always wee but now you ain't naught but a bairn!" Scotty exclaims, grinning, and Chekov scowls as fiercely as he can at the older man. "I bet you ain't any taller than Keenser!"

McCoy cracks up again. Kirk punches his arm.

"Not fair!" Chekov howls, at the same time Sulu says, "not cool, Scotty!" The engineer makes a consolatory noise. It’s completely undermined by the grin on his face.

"All right, that's enough," Kirk commands, and Uhura rolls her eyes.

"You look the same," she tells him, and he bristles at the offense.

"I'm way buffer usually!"

McCoy snorts. "Well, your ego's still intact, that's for sure."

"Woulda take more than a wee drink to knock that down," Scotty adds.

“Now see here -”

With the attention redirected to Kirk, Sulu takes a step closer to Chekov. "Is it - I mean, is it you in there?" he asks hesitantly.

"Mentally, I am the same," Chekov says. "I am still the ship's navigator." He lowers his voice. "And I am still your boyfriend."

"So you remember what we...you know." He gestures between them. "What we do together."

Chekov rolls his eyes. "The sex, Hikaru. We have sex. You can say it." His words are steady but his voice is high and childish, and Sulu grimaces.

"Dude, don't say that. You're eight. That's kind of gross. And by kind of, I mean, seriously. I already feel like a lecherous old man when you're your normal age."

"You are not an old man," Chekov says automatically, because it's what he always says when Sulu starts to worry about the age gap between them. "Hikaru, in a day or two I will be back to normal and we can forget this ever happened. Look at the doctor. He is not perturbed by the captain's change."

"He's too busy laughing at him," Sulu counters. "He's kind of mean like that."

"Hey, laddie, I just thought of something." Scotty's got that look on his face, the one that usually results in a minor explosion, and Sulu has to resist the urge to scoop Chekov up in his arms. "You know those conduits on deck 27? The ones that are too small for us to get in?"

"The ones that house the thermal couplings you wanted to adjust?" Chekov brightens. "I can do that!"

"Now I don't think that's a good idea," McCoy interjects. "I mean, doesn’t Starfleet have child labor laws?"

"You said yourself I am mentally fine," Chekov says. "And it will give me something useful to do."

McCoy glances at Kirk, who shrugs. "Why not? It's not a bad idea."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It isn't a bad idea.

Until the herbs wear off, and Chekov feels a pinch, lets out an eep, and pops back to normal size.

Still inside the conduit.


	2. Chapter 2

The second time it happens, it’s because of the new transfer from the USS McKinley.

Engineering is, almost as a matter of principle, a pretty motley crew. It’s not surprising, given their fearless leader is a hard-drinking Scotsman who has only recently escaped exile from an ice planet. But they work well together, and keep the Enterprise running in tip-top shape, sometimes even better.

Scotty takes great pride in his staff. So when something seems off to him, he pays attention.

And Lieutenant Darling seems off. She’s smart enough – wouldn’t have been transferred over if she wasn’t – and her co-workers have accepted her as one of their own. Scotty’s got no reason to be suspicious. But he is.

So he watches her closely when she’s on shift, long enough that he starts to think it’s just him.

Then he sees her glance around, gave a _come on_ gesture to Ensign Carter, and dart into an auxiliary bay. Scotty follows, right into a cloud of smoke.

“We shouldn’t be doing this. I didn’t know this is what you meant when you said you needed a break.” Ensign Carter’s voice is wheezy and she gives a hard cough.

“Don’t worry about it,” Darling placates. Scotty watches as she takes a long exhale off the pipe she’s holding in her hand. “Scotty won’t mind.”

“Oh, he won’t?” Scotty booms, and Carter lets out a squeal.

Darling startles, and drops the pipe. It shatters on the hard decking. “Oh shit!” she yelps. “Don’t breathe in!”

But it’s too late, Scotty’s already gearing up for a right thrashing, and he sucks in a deep breath –

And gets a lung full of _something_. Something powerful, because he can’t even get out a _what in the hell is wrong with you_ before the whole world gets a little hazy.

And then a lot hazy. “Whoa,” he says stupidly, and stumbles a little.

“Dr. McCoy! We need you in engineering!” Carter’s voice is muffled by the uniform shirt she’s pulled up over her nose and mouth. “We have an airborne containment!”

“I can see the air,” Scotty whispers. “It’s everywhere.” He waves his hand through it, watches the colors stream. Then something big and white moves into his field of vision. He yelps. “

What in the hell happened here?” McCoy demands from inside his biovac suit.

Carter points to Darling. “It was her!”

“It was just a little mood enhancer,” Darling’s muffled voice explains. “Like marijuana from Earth. Except from Risa. And a lot more powerful.”

McCoy’s moving away now, yelling. But Scotty doesn’t care. Not when he’s just spotted the most beautiful thing that must have ever existed.

The warp core pulses, its blues undulating and mixing, patterns forming and reforming. Scotty feels it pulling him towards the edge of the catwalk.

“ _Och, thu àlainn ni, tha thu_ ,” he whispers. “You beautiful thing.”

The core shimmers at him, as if to say _thank you, Scotty_.

“I love you, lass.” He lays his hand on the cool glass. “I do.”

_I love you too, Scotty_ , she hums back.

“It killed me when I had to eject your cores that time,” he says pitifully, “and I barely knew ye at the time. I dunnae think I could do that again.”

_You’ll always take care of me, won’t you_ , the pulses seem to say. Scotty nods, watches a blue swirl sweep down and brush past his hand on the glass.

_I didn’t like it when that other man was inside me_ , she purrs, and Scotty flinches against the memory, not out of sadness, but jealousy.

“Scotty?” Kirk’s voice breaks through, and the blue swirl dissolves away. Scotty blinks, his peaceful feeling washing away like the tide.

“You okay?”

“You.” Scotty rounds on Kirk. “You tried to take her from me, ya scoundrel!”

Kirk takes a step back. “Uh, I what? Who?”

“My beautiful lass,” Scotty cries. “How dare ye do that to me, Captain! How dare ye -”

He hits the floor with a thump.

Kirk looks at McCoy, who tosses the empty hypospray to the side with a sigh.

“Was he talking about the -” He gestures to the core.

“Yeah,” McCoy says.

Kirk fidgets like he’s got an itch. “That’s, uh, that’s kind of weird.”

“ _Kind of_?”

But when Scotty wakes up, he looks so awful – nauseated and heartsick and embarrassed all in one – that McCoy and Kirk just feign stupidity, tell him no, he didn’t say anything weird, he must have hallucinated it. Scotty knows they’re lying but he takes their kindness and heads back to work.

But not before stopping by the brig and given Darling a right thrashing.


	3. Chapter 3

The third time it happens, it’s an attempt to get information out of McCoy.

The kidnapping is a pretty shoddy operation. They’d only be able to grab him because he had been focused on Ensign Martinez’s broken ankle at the time. That, and they’d been told the valley was uninhabited, an oversight McCoy intends to take up with Spock the minute he gets out of this hellhole. “

You will tell us your secrets!” the native shrieks, and McCoy has to bite back a laugh, because the thing only comes up to his waist and has to stand on a stepstool to face him.

“McCoy, Leonard H., Lieutenant Commander, USS Enterprise,” he says instead.

The thing grows more agitated and blushes – well, McCoy assumes it’s blushing, because its blue cheeks are shining a bright purple now – before snapping something in its native language. An underling scurries forward and holds out a few small leaves. The leader takes the leaves, then snatches a hand – _a paw?_ – out and grabs McCoy’s face. He twists his face away but his hands are tied behind his back and he can’t shake it loose.

“Get your damn hands off of me!” McCoy snaps, realizing belatedly he should have really kept his mouth shut when the thing shoves the leaves into his open mouth. He tries to spit but the leaves dissolve almost immediately, releasing a mint flavor. He goes to yell _what the hell did you just give me_ but what comes out is, “you’re very furry. You look like you might be nice to pet.”

McCoy freezes.

The thing smiles.

“It was a truth serum,” he realizes. “Very minty.”

“You will tell us your secrets now,” it purrs.

“I’d rather not,” McCoy says. It’s not just that he can’t lie, he can’t even stop himself from talking. “I really don’t know all that much. Except about Khan’s blood bringing Jim back from the dead.”

_Oh JESUS._

Then there’s a loud bang outside, the door flies open, and a security team pours in, Kirk at the front.

“Bones!” he exclaims. “You okay?”

“It’s incredible stupid of you to lead an away team of this nature,” McCoy says. “But I do love that you came for me yourself. Also, you look incredible sexy with that giant phaser.”

Kirk’s eyes bug out. Hendorff looks severely uncomfortable.

“They gave me a truth serum,” McCoy explains somewhat unnecessarily.

Kirk’s eyes light up, and he grins. “So you have to tell the truth, huh?” His mind is already whirling with the possibilities. Plus, he still hasn’t forgiven Bones for cackling at him during the Da'narvian incident. This would provide _excellent_ retaliatory material.

“I didn’t tell them anything,” McCoy promises. “Just about Khan’s blood bringing you back from the dead.”

The smile falls off as Hendorff’s head whips around. Kirk groans, and points a sharp finger. “You never heard that.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

“We’ve isolated the effects of the serum, and we should have an antidote made up in a few hours,” M’Benga explains. They’re back in the medbay, in one of the private rooms, because in the time it takes to get them from the transporter room to the medbay, McCoy makes one ensign cry, confuses four others, and reveals confidential medical information about Admiral Barnett to another. “You never heard that,” Kirk hollers after the disgusted lieutenant.

McCoy’s got his hands clamped over his mouth now, in a useless attempt to keep the word vomit in.

M’Benga eyes him warily. “Until we figure out the antidote, I would suggest we keep him sequestered in his quarters.”

“I never sleep in my quarters,” McCoy supplies helpfully from under his fingers. The cheerful tone of his voice is a direct contradiction to the stricken look on his face. “I sleep with the captain.”

Kirk smacks a hand against his forehead, because this is _not_ what he fantasized about. M’Benga purses his lips and mercifully moves on.

“Are you feeling any side effects?” he asks instead.

“Well,” McCoy says, and all three of them brace themselves. “Not from the serum, per say, although I still taste mint, but not quite mint, you know? When something tastes almost right but not quite? Kind of like that fake alcohol Scotty cooks up in his still on deck 17 that Jim doesn’t know about.” Kirk’s head snaps up in shock. “Oh, you’re more annoyed he didn’t tell you then anything else, so don’t make that face. But anyway, my back and wrists are sore from those furry things grabbing me and tying me up. I’m a little sorry I never got to pet them, because they looked very soft, even if they were idiots. Also, I’m quite hungry. I didn’t get a chance to eat breakfast because -”

“Okay!” Kirk yells, slapping a hand over McCoy’s mouth. McCoy yanks the hand down.

“Because the captain convinced me to have sex in the shower,” he says in a rush, then face-palms himself.

M’Benga clears his throat.

“I’m sorry you had to hear that, Doctor,” Kirk says tightly.

“I’m sorry you had to hear it, but not sorry it happened,” McCoy follows up, and M’Benga cringes a little. “I like shower sex with the captain. I like all sex with the captain. I’m hoping for more this tonight.” He pauses, looks up at the ceiling beseechingly, then stuffs a pillow in his mouth.

There’s a long moment of silence.

“So, I’ll just have you transported directly to your quarters,” M’Benga says finally.

“Yes, that would be for the best,” Kirk grits out. “And Doctor…”

M’Benga throws up his hands. “I never heard any of it.”


	4. Chapter 4

The fourth time it happens, it’s Sulu’s fault, which everyone kind of expected to happen at some point.

He’s in the botany bay, tending to the large orange plant he’d picked up somewhere past Starbase 18. Kirk had been reluctant to let it on board, seeing as how it had come from an uninhabited planet, which meant there was no one or thing to tell them if it was poisonous, or carnivorous, or the chrysalis form of some fire-breathing, mutant butterfly.

Sulu had rolled his eyes at the last one.

But Sulu had showed Kirk his scans, which showed nothing troubling, and promised to keep it quarantined until such time as it proved as harmless as it looked, and Kirk had sighed and capitulated. “I’m blaming you if something flies out of it,” he warns. “And then I’m shooting it out an airlock.”

“You wouldn’t,” Sulu protests halfheartedly, and sets to work finding his newest find a good home.

It's been four months, and the orange plant – which Sulu has somewhat egotistically named _Asclepias Suluosa_ , because the flowers remind him of the milkweed that grew in his backyard at home – had done nothing but bloom perfectly every month. Confident he will not be attacked by any demented butterflies, Sulu clears a space in the main bay and bends to bring the plant out.

The movement jostles the plant, and a little pollen seeps out from the center of a bloom.

Sulu leans in closer to inspect it. He pinches the bloom, just slightly.

It spits back at him.

Sulu yelps, almost drops the pot, but manages to set it down on the nearby counter instead. The plant is not appeased, and sends a stream of orange pollen at him.

“Dude!” He jumps back, pulls a uniform sleeve across his face. The pollen comes off easily but the skin tingles where it landed. “What did I ever do you,” he asks miserably.

The plant doesn’t reply.

“Sulu to Medbay,” he comms.

“Medbay here,” Nurse Taylor responds.

“I think I need some help in the – _whoa_.” His thought falls away as he’s overwhelmed with a sudden and consuming urge, bubbling up from deep in his loins. “Sex pollen”, the last vestige of his rational brain pipes up, and he must have said it out loud because Taylor groans, “always thought that was a myth”, before all thought processes are re-routed to finding Chekov.

“Lieutenant Sulu?”

“Gotta find Pavel,” he barks back, and stalks out of the bay. He’s operating by sense now, feeling like a feral animal. He sniffs the air, swears he can smell something of Chekov around.

Someone moves into his path. “Lieutenant? Are you all right?”

Sulu shoves past – he doesn’t know who it is, doesn’t care, it’s not Pavel. Keeps sniffing.

The doors open up to his quarters. Chekov turns from his desk, his comm monitor on. “He’s here,” he says to whoever’s on the other line.

Sulu pounces.

Chekov yelps, twists away at the last second, and leaps over the bed. “Hikaru, you are not in your right mind right now,” he tells him, hands out in a _we come in peace_ gesture. “You need to go see the doctor.”

“I need you,” Sulu growls, launches across the bed. Chekov slips around the wall into the small bathroom.

“I’m flattered,” he says nervously, “but I really don’t think that’s a good idea right now.”

“Don’t care.” Sulu stalks closer, and Chekov squeaks as his back hits the sink. He’s so close, Hikaru can almost taste him. He lunges, but in an impressive use of his Starfleet training, Chekov drops to the floor and somersaults out of the room, slamming the padd to lock the door behind him.

“Let me out of here,” Sulu yells, and slams on the padd to release the lock. But Chekov gets there first, and it beeps and blinks, _Emergency Override – Cannot Unlock_. “Pavel!”

“You’ll thank me when you’re feeling better!” Chekov hollers.

“Fuck!” He pounds his fists against the doors. Chekov’s right there, just on the other side of the door. Sulu just has to get to him.

He takes a deep breath. Tries to think.

“Pavel,” he says, tries to keep his voice calm. “Pavel, it’s okay, baby. You can open the door.”

“No, I don’t think I can,” Chekov calls back, and Sulu swears.

“No, you can. I’m calm now, really.” He breathes deep through his nose, out through his mouth. “Come on, Pasha. Please.”

There’s a long moment before Chekov asks, hesitantly, “Are you sure?”

His blood surges and he squeezes his eyes closed tight to calm himself. “I’m sure, Pasha. Come on, let me out.”

“I don’t know.”

“Come on, baby.” He’s purring now. “Be a good boy and let me out. Let me out so I can make you feel good.”

“Yeah, I reckon I’m gonna have to pass on that,” comes the response, and Hikaru barely has time to wonder when Pavel’s accent went from _Russian_ to _hick_ before the doors swish open and he’s face to face with a pissed-off McCoy.

He doesn’t even try to dodge the hypo.

And when he learns later Kirk did instead shoot the _Asclepias Suluosa_ out of an airlock, he makes sure to thank him.


	5. Chapter 5

The fifth time, it’s Spock’s fault, which no one expected.

But that morning, he and Uhura had had a fight – well, Uhura had had a fight, while Spock just looked at her, perplexed – about the importance of spending time as a couple, and he is, to his personal dissatisfaction, somewhat distracted.

They’re on an exploratory foray on a new planet, in terrain not unlike one of Earth’s rainforests. But thankfully, the natives have provide a good amount of information about the local flora and fauna, and the team feels confident – or at least, more confident that usual – that there won’t be any incidents as they make their way through the vegetation.

Then Lieutenant Parker calls for Spock to show him a particularly vibrant bloom, and Spock turns, not realizing that the heel of his boot is crushing a small pink flower.

That is, until the vine attached to the now-crushed flower pulls back, curls around his ankle, and yanks Spock off his feet.

Spock yelps, grabbing at the vine, which simply tightens its grip up his leg. There’s more vines now, grabbing at his arms and chest, until he’s pinned to the ground.

“Commander!” Sulu grabs the end of a vine and pulls, but another vine sneaks up and whips his hand. “Ow! Damn it!”

“I believe it would be unwise to try and disengage the plant at this time,” Spock says. He tests his bonds, and finds that they are firm but not oppressive. “It is not trying to hurt me, merely hold me. We will to need to determine its intentions.”

“On it,” Sulu says. Parker and Ensign Quinn are already huddled over their PADDs, searching for a match to the pink flowers in the Piathian’s database. Then Quinn freezes, makes a small squeaking noise.

“Ensign?” Spock says.

Quinn gestures to Parker, who leans over, reads Quinn’s PADD, and turns bright pink. “Oh,” she says quietly. “Uh, Lieutenant?”

“If you have found something of pertinence, please share your findings,” Spock says.

Parker just looks pleadingly at Sulu, who sighs and leans in. Parker and Quinn whisper something to him. Sulu groans. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Lieutenant Sulu.” Spock’s got on his commander voice now. “You will tell me what you have found.”

Sulu glares at Parker, who glares back. “You outrank me,” she hisses. He huffs.

“Fine. Just – go wait over there.” He turns to Spock. “Okay, fair warning. This is gonna be really embarrassing.”

“Embarrassment is a human trait. I do not suffer from such emotions,” Spock responds, and Sulu rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, well, maybe I wasn’t only concerned about you,” he mumbles.

“ _Lieutenant_.”

“The flower you stepped on contains the seeds of the base vine, so when you stepped on it, you crushed its seed,” Sulu says in a rush. “So now you have to, you know, give it some back.”

Spock cocks his head, as well as he can in his confines. “What exactly am I supposed to give back?”

“Well – you know,” Sulu waves his hand aimlessly. “Your – oh, Jesus, don’t make me say it. Your seed. You know.”

“My – oh.” Spock blinks.

“Yeah,” Sulu says tightly.

Spock thinks for a minute. “But given that I am currently incapacitated, this would be…exceedingly difficult.”

Sulu’s eyes fly open and he backs up quickly. “Look, Commander, I’m all for helping out a fellow crew member, but I don’t think I can -”

“That is not what I intended,” Spock cuts him off, and Sulu’s shoulders sag in relief. “Perhaps it is best that you ask Lieutenant Uhura to beam down.”

“Why would – oh. _OH,_ ” Sulu says stupidly. The threat of inappropriate contact with a superior officer is gone and now he’s fighting to keep the grin off his face. Spock sighs and wonders at the general immaturity of his human crewmates. “Yeah, okay. Much better option.”

“Yes,” he agrees. “So, uh, yeah. I’ll go do that. Call Uhura. Just tell her…she’s needed.” He snickers the tiniest bit. “I’m sure she’ll head right down.”

“I would remind you this is still an away mission and ask you act in a professional manner,” Spock chastises him. “Especially given your own _mishap_ not long ago.”

The reminder throws Sulu off balance and he blushes furiously and stutters something unintelligible.

“I would also ask you try to limit the people involved in the process.”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll keep it need-to-know,” Sulu assures him. “Although I’ll have to tell the captain something, and you know he’s the worst. He still hasn’t stopped teasing me about…well, you know.”

“I will deal with the captain,” Spock says flatly. “Just please advise Lieutenant Uhura I require her help.”

Sulu nods, and rushes back to their base to call the ship.

Spock sighs, and contemplates the irony of the situation. He may not fully understand the full range of human emotion, but even he is pretty sure this is not the couples’ time Nyota had in mind.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

In the end, the natives’ advice proves correct, and Spock and Uhura beam back to the ship unharmed.

Kirk, of course, is waiting for them.

His expectant face tells Spock Sulu has been good to his word and not revealed the exact nature of his emergency, but the captain is not stupid.

“So.” Kirk rocks back and forth on his heels in barely-contained excitement. “Mission report, Commander?”

Spock just sighs.


	6. Chapter 6

The sixth time isn’t really a sixth time, despite what Jim Kirk may think.

“Risan weed? Sulu’s orange plant? Or did you get ahold of something new?”

McCoy stares at him. “Jim, what in the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about _this_!” He swings his arms out, gesturing wildly. It’s shore leave, and they’ve been hiking, when they came across a wide meadow. They’re in the middle of it now, tall grass all around, sun shining, and McCoy is laid out of his back, relaxed and loose-limbed and _smiling_.

It’s _freaking_ Jim out.

McCoy’s eyebrows knit up as he tries to understand Jim’s problem. “Did you want to keep hiking?” he asks.

“No! I’m quite happy with what we’re doing!”

The eyebrows unknit and rise up. “And yet you’re yelling at me,” Bones says dryly. “And standing in a very aggressive manner.”

Jim realizes Bones is right, drops his arms and sits next to Bones. “I – I just – I didn’t know you could relax, Bones. Don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled to see it, but given our recent history with exotic fauna…”

“Flora,” McCoy corrects. “Fauna are animals.”

“Whatever,” Jim huffs. “Just, cut me a little slack for thinking something was up.”

McCoy rolls his eyes. “Jim, I promise you I am not under the influence of any mind-altering or psychedelic substances.” He tugs Jim down so he’s lying along McCoy’s side, head tucked up under his chin. “Unless you count Jim Kirk as a drug.”

“I have been told I sometimes drive people crazy,” Jim says cheekily.

“Ain’t that the truth,” McCoy agrees. “In which case, I’m going to have to classify you as a restricted medication.” He shifts over, rolls Jim beneath him. Jim spreads out easily, pulls McCoy up closer. “Keep you locked up in our quarters until I need you.”

Jim hums an affirmative response. “Just be careful,” he says, lowering his eyelashes seductively, the way he knows Bones loves. “Don’t want to get hooked.”

Bones chuckles, kisses him slow and sweet. “Too late for that,” he whispers. “I’m already hopelessly addicted."


End file.
